"
"Weel," said the soutar, turning half round, and looking the minister full
in the face, "are _ye_ convertit, sir? Or are ye but turnin frae side to
side i' yer coffin--seekin a sleepin assurance that ye're waukin?"
"You are plain-spoken anyway!" said the minister, rising.
"Maybe I am at last, sir! And maybe I hae been ower lang in comin to that
same plainness! Maybe I was ower feart for yer coontin me ill-fashiont--
what ye ca' _rude!_"
The parson was half-way to the door, for he was angry, which was not
surprising. But with the latch in his hand he turned, and, lo, there in the
middle of the floor, with the child in her arms, stood the beautiful
Maggie, as if in act to follow him: both were staring after him.
"Dinna anger him, father," said Maggie; "he disna ken better!"
"Weel ken I, my dautie, that he disna ken better; but I canna help thinkin
he's maybe no that far frae the waukin. God grant I be richt aboot that!
Eh, gien he wud but wauk up, what a man he would mak! He kens a heap--only
what's that whaur a man has no licht?"
"I certainly do not see things as you would have me believe you see them;
and you are hardly capable of persuading me that you do, I fear!" said
Blatherwick, with the angry flush again on his face, which had for a moment
been dispelled by pallor.
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